


drown in this state

by finkpishnets



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Break Up, Character Study, Getting Back Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28000506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: They break up again on a Tuesday morning, after dropping Lexi off at school and grabbing breakfast at the cafe.It’s not monumental. No screaming, no crying, no accusations or stumbled upon lies. Just Ben passing the ketchup and saying “Cal—” in that way of his. The one that’s just for them and isn’t always happy.“Yeah.” Callum says, because he knows. Because he gets it, even if he hates it, and because they’ve both dragged themselves to this point.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 9
Kudos: 97





	drown in this state

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thisissirius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/gifts).



> set sometime post early december 2020.

**~**

They break up again on a Tuesday morning, after dropping Lexi off at school and grabbing breakfast at the cafe.

It’s not monumental. No screaming, no crying, no accusations or stumbled upon lies. Just Ben passing the ketchup and saying “Cal—” in that way of his. The one that’s just for them and isn’t always happy.

“Yeah.” Callum says, because he knows. Because he gets it, even if he hates it, and because they’ve both dragged themselves to this point.

They finish their fry-ups, skipping a second coffee, and when Ben kisses his cheek it’s warm and solemn and inevitable.

**~**

The police isn’t what Callum thought it’d be.

Corrupt bosses aside, it’s still shit hours and shit people, and that’s not even including the criminals. _Them_ he can deal with to a point, too many years around the ‘wrong sort’, as he’s reminded on a weekly basis. Daily, depending on which prat’s working the front desk. 

When he’d signed on he’d really thought he’d be making a difference. 

Then again, he’d thought the same about the army.

Maybe he just doesn’t understand what ‘making a difference’ really means.

Most of his time’s spent on paperwork or walking door to door, taking statements about missing bikes and prowlers. Sometimes they’re told to bring someone in, a dealer or thief, some kid with a record longer than their arm and little proof to pin them to anything except the brass’s bias. Callum’s started recognising faces and remembering tea orders.

The problem is, he’s stubborn. He’d been _so sure_ this is what he wanted, and no part of him’s ready to admit that maybe it wasn’t his best idea.

So he flips through more folders, fetches more coffees, and keeps going.

**~**

They run into each other, obviously. Down the Vic. At the market. On one memorable occasion, in the alley outside the Albert whilst Callum’s working and Ben’s got his hand down the front of some bloke’s skinny jeans. 

It’s awkward but not bad. Callum still hugs Lexi when she runs at him, still spends his off-time with Jay and/or Lola, still knows just enough of what’s going on to worry when Phil shows up with a broken arm or Ben’s sporting his second black eye in as many weeks.

It’s not his place to ask though, not anymore.

And even if he did, well—

He’d never really wanted the truth anyway, had he?

**~**

He’s just so _tired_.

Callum’s never been afraid of hard work, always happy to put in the extra effort, but it just feels like whatever he does, he’s never really awake.

When he’d first started working at the funeral parlour, he’d expected it to overwhelm him. To go home with peoples grief blanketed across his shoulders like a coat he couldn’t shift. It wasn’t though; mostly people were grateful, even in their sadness, and it really felt like they were giving them something. A nice goodbye. Closure. _Something_.

The station, though. The anger and the loss and the daily trauma, that’s the truly overwhelming part.

Maybe it’s why his colleagues are so cold.

He can’t blame them.

(He doesn’t want to be cold. He hasn’t worked this hard his whole life to stay warm to let it freeze him now.)

**~**

“Lexi’s in the school play,” Ben says, passing a folded flyer from his spot next to him at the bar. “The lead, obviously. She wanted me to ask if you’d come. Told her you were probably busy, but you know what she’s like…”

“Nah,” Callum says, taking the piece of paper and eyeing the additional glitter with a smile. “‘Course I’ll be there.”

Ben smiles, a fragile thing that too few people get to see, and Callum still wants to kiss the edges of it until it bleeds into something bright and real and lovely. 

“We’ll save you a seat then, yeah?”

“Definitely,” Callum says, and misses the heat of Ben’s body the moment it’s gone.

**~**

Whit’s taken to sending him links of puppy videos or memes he knows she’s laughed at until her side hurts, and Callum carefully chooses everything he sends back, hoping it’ll just make her laugh harder. Even Tiff’s been on at him to get an Instagram account, and he’s not sure when she decided she liked him, but he’s not going to push to find out.

Lola tags him on Facebook whenever she puts up a post about Lexi, and Callum clicks the heart button each time.

He tries to be social. Goes out for drinks with the other officers when he’s invited, and feels a little awkward in the fancy bars they prefer, dim lights and floors that aren’t sticky with spilled beer. Smiles and chats about films and music and station gossip, and goes home to the Square wishing he’d just had a pint in the Vic instead.

Every night it feels like a relief to step back on home turf, wave at Tina and Sonia, help Linda with too many shopping bags or laugh with Mick over the bar about something Johnny said last time he called.

Every morning when he leaves, he can’t wait to come home again.

Still. That’s how everyone feels about work. He’s not special.

**~**

“The Mitchells are at it again,” someone says, and Callum can feel the eyes darting his way. 

It’s been months, not that they care.

“Not here,” someone else says, and of course not. It’s not like Callum’s proved himself over and over until he isn’t sure where he starts and the job ends anymore.

“Where are you going?” his partner asks.

“Feeling sick.”

“Right,” she says, like she couldn’t care less. “Just don’t puke near me, yeah?”

He waves her off and heads for the men’s room.

Halfway there he changes his mind and heads for the front door instead.

**~**

Phil’s expressionless gaze is still enough to make Callum feel a bit wobbly, even now.

It’s okay, though. He’s only got eyes for Ben anyway.

“You need somethin’?” Ben asks, and Callum can see the way he’s trying to be casual, the tension in his shoulders where he can’t quite hide that he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Thought you should know,” Callum says. “There’s talk, down at the station. Dunno what about, but—”

Ben and Phil share a look.

“Cheers,” Ben says, and that’s that.

Callum buys some chips on his way home and doesn’t think about the choice he’s just made.

**~**

Jack’s eyeing him over the water cooler. 

“Uh,” Callum says, “can I help you?”

“Why are you here, Halfway?” Jack asks, and Callum frowns, looks at the paper cup of water in his hand and the folders under his arm. Jack rolls his eyes. “Not what I meant.”

“Oh,” Callum says. “Because I wanna help people.”

It’s the same line he’s used a dozen times, and it’s still true at it’s core.

“Plenty of ways to do that,” Jack says, and Callum thinks he might be trying to be nice. He’s not done that since Phil Mitchell beat the crap out of him so it takes Callum a moment to adjust.

“I guess.”

“Look,” Jack says, and Callum gets why people respect him. Somehow he’s got the balance right. “I thought maybe you weren’t right for this job because of the Mitchells, yeah? But now…Maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s you.”

Callum straightens. “If you don’t think I’m doing a good job—”

Jack waves a hand. “Your work’s fine. Exemplary, even. Doesn’t mean you want to be here.”

And, well—

Yeah.

That.

**~**

“Would you hate me?” he asks, and Stuart laughs.

Doesn’t stop laughing for ten minutes straight.

“Would I hate ya if you weren’t a pig anymore?” he says, like it’s the stupidest thing Callum’s ever said.

To be fair, it probably is.

**~**

They didn’t break up because of Callum’s job.

Didn’t break up because of Ben’s, either.

Except they did.

Ben had been right, all those times he’d said it at the beginning. Because they’d tried to put each other first, tried not to lie, but _how could they_ when their day to days were fundamental opposites? 

Ben could have gone straight. He’d have still been a Mitchell, though, and that would have been enough no matter what Callum did.

Callum could have let it go. Accepted that he couldn’t know what Ben got up to and that it didn’t matter as long as they went to bed together every night. Except eventually that would have been a conflict, already was just through circumstance.

Either Callum became dirty or Ben stopped being a Mitchell.

No compromises along the way.

**~**

He doesn’t think the brass is surprised. Expects there’s a couple bets being cashed in, and it’s almost enough for his pride to keep him in place, but, nah.

He’s made up his mind.

The thing is, Callum’s always had a plan. Didn’t need to be a solid one, could be as flimsy as staying in one place for a bit, but there was always _something_.

Join the army, stay in Walford, marry Whitney, (choose Ben), be with Ben, join the police.

The only plan he has now is to go home.

He buys a pint in the Vic, and then another. Joins Jay in a game of darts when he takes a break from the parlour, and helps Tina lug some crates across to the Albert. He spends a couple hours wandering the market, catching up with people it feels like he hasn’t spoken to in years, and fills in for Kathy for ten minutes at the cafe when she has to run out for milk.

Stu cooks dinner, sausage and mash with watery gravy, and they watch a football game on tele even though neither of them care who’s playing.

Goes to bed early.

It’s a start.

**~**

The police are outside the car lot the next morning.

From the look on Ben’s face, they’ve been at it a while. Jay’s loitering in the background, black jacket over his arm like he was just leaving but ain’t now.

“Where were you last night, Mr Mitchell?” the officer asks. Callum recognises him a little. Thinks he might be one of the ones that tripped that kid outside Tesco then dragged him in for shoplifting.

“With me,” Callum says immediately, and four pairs of eyes turn to stare at him.

“What?” the officer says, taken off-guard, and Callum shrugs.

“He was with me. Quiet one, weren’t it babe? Watched some tele and got an early night.”

“Yeah,” Ben says, rolling with it the way a Mitchell always does. “Well, he _says_ early…”

“What did you watch?” Officer Whats-his-face says, pushing, and Ben smirks.

“Couldn’t tell ya. Was a little… _occupied_.”

Callum’s cheeks flush, but he doesn’t deny it. “Anythin’ else?” he says instead, and the officers do the usual script of ‘if you remember anything—’ and glare at Callum as they drive off.

“Not that I ain’t grateful,” Ben says, and despite the snark Callum hears the truth in it. “But that’s not gonna win you any favours with your boys in blue.”

“Yeah, well,” Callum says, sticking his hands in his pockets and wondering at how light he feels. “Not mine anymore, are they?”

Ben blinks, and somewhere in the background Jay makes his excuses.

“Oh,” Ben says, shell-shocked. “Right.”

“See ya,” Callum says, and can’t stop smiling all day.

**~**

“It wasn’t anything… _bad_ ,” Ben says, sliding into the stool next to him at the Albert. Callum’s spent the evening casually flirting with a guy in pink eyeliner until his mates pulled him away. His wistful expression when he’d said bye had made Callum feel good at least.

“Okay,” Callum says, sipping his beer. “I figured.”

“Yeah, well,” Ben says, and it feels a bit like the early days when they were still able to wrong-foot each other.

Ben orders another round and they stay like that for a while.

“Were you serious, about the police?” Ben asks eventually, and Callum nods. “It weren’t…It wasn’t because of _me_ was it?”

“Nah,” Callum says truthfully, because he’s thought about this so much by now. “It was because of me.”

“Cal,” Ben says, “you _wanted_ this.”

“Yeah,” Callum says, because he did, once. He knows better now. “Want to be _me_ more.”

“Well,” Ben says. “Thanks. For the alibi.”

“Anytime,” Callum says, and means it.

**~**

Turns out Ben takes him at his word.

“Just went for a drive,” he tells the policewoman who corners him in the market. “I made him this cheesy mixtape for his birthday, burnt in onto a CD and everything, you know? Except the only CD player either of us have is in my car. So we just drove around, got a McDonalds drive-thru.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he mentions to the detective who comes round his. “His little girl was up in bed so we just watched a movie. It was pretty terrible. Ben’s got the same taste in films as his daughter, so….”

“Played scrabble,” he says, the third time it happens in as many weeks. “ _Dirty_ scrabble.”

Callum’s pretty sure it’s a test.

Thinks about Sharon that day in the pub, what seems like a lifetime ago.

“Look,” he tells the fourth one. “Do you want _all_ the details, ‘cause I don’t really wanna go down for public indecency.”

At least that one blushes.

**~**

“ _Seriously?_ ” Ben says, cornering him in the Vic. The tips of his ears are red, which.

_Ah._

Callum may have gone a bit far with the last one.

“In my defence,” he says, “we _have_ done that before. Just not lately.”

“She looked impressed,” Ben says. “ _Impressed_.”

“Well,” Callum says, “you are pretty impressive.”

Ben opens his mouth a couple of times, and honestly, Callum’s trying not to laugh. Feels light with it.

“I am _very_ impressive, thank you,” Ben says eventually, tilting his nose up snobbishly, and Callum does lose it a bit then. “You don’t have to keep doing this,” he says eventually, when Callum’s calmed down, and Callum sighs.

“I know,” he says. “I’m not trying to prove anythin’.”

“I could tell you…” Ben says, lowering his voice, and Callum leans closer. “What you’ve been covering for, I mean. If you needed to know.”

Callum thinks about it. The curious part of him does want to know, the part that cares about Ben _always_ wants to know, but—

“Nah, you’re alright,” he says instead. “Just tell me if you think it’s important, yeah? Or if you need a more specific cover. By the way, we play scrabble now.”

“Who even _are_ you?” Ben asks.

 _Me,_ Callum thinks. _Finally me._

**~**

The alibi visits cease, and Callum’s not sure if that’s because Ben’s stopped offering him up or if it's because there’s not heat on the Mitchells right now.

It’s a little disappointing, if he’s honest. He had a whole lie ready about Ben planning a romantic picnic that would have driven Ben _crazy_.

Jay offers him his job at the funeral parlour back, and he seriously considers it before taking one behind the bar at the Albert instead. It doesn’t pay as well, but it’s familiar work. He’s not the bloke who broke more glasses than he served anymore, barely remembers who that guy is, but there’s something nice about how simple it all is.

It’s a relief not to have to care about anything more than peoples drunken hook ups or long days at work.

“Guess I can cross this place off my meeting spots then,” Ben says the first time he walks in to find Callum behind the bar. He shoves his phone in his pocket, and Callum wonders if he really has reverted to old habits or if this is something more sedate. Some guy he’s been chatting to for a while, could stick around for more than one night.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he says, because he wants Ben to be happy. Always has, always will.

“Nah,” Ben says, vulnerability slipping over him, “I’d keep realising they weren’t as hot as you. Put a serious damper on things.”

“Well,” Callum says.

“Thanks,” Ben says. “For everything.”

He means the alibis, obviously, but Callum’s been able to read Ben Mitchell for a long time now and knows it’s bigger than that.

“Your welcome,” he says, and means something bigger too.

**~**

Callum quit the police first and foremost for himself.

He did not quit the police for Ben Mitchell.

(He definitely quit the police for _them_.)

**~**

Phil nods at him in the market, signals for him to follow, and Callum does because he’s not an idiot.

“Job tonight,” Phil says, carefully. He doesn’t trust Callum, and Callum can’t blame him. Then again, Phil doesn’t trust anyone so he’s not special.

“Okay…?”

“Look, we need ya to cover for us. Sharon’s in, too, but they’ve been funny about taking her word lately. Just come over with too much takeaway, stay a couple hours, mess around on our phones with the location on, and when the coppers ask tell them we had a family night in, yeah?”

“Sure,” Callum says immediately, and Phil blinks at him. “What time?”

“Seven,” Phil says. “And not a word.”

“‘Course not,” Callum says.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think Phil looked a bit proud.

**~**

“You made your mind up, then?” Sharon says, when they’re working their way through too much Indian, half watching an old game show channel and pretending they’re not worried.

Callum’s alternating between phones, Googling answers to whatever show’s on and scrolling through Ben’s instagram feed, liking Lola’s picture of Lexi in a panda dressing gown.

“S’like you said, innit?” he answers eventually. “It’s worth giving up everything for.”

Sharon’s silent for a long moment, and when he looks at her she’s smiling.

“Good boy,” she says

There are worse things, he thinks, than learning to be as loyal as she is.

It’s worth it when your loyalties actually _matter_.

**~**

It’s long dark by the time Phil and Ben eventually slip through the back door. Sharon’s gone to bed, Callum promising to wake her if anything goes sideways, so Callum’s alone, listening to the radio just loud enough for it to be heard by anyone walking by, turning it off with the quiet click of the lock.

There’s no sirens following them, so he assumes it went well.

“Right,” Phil says, clapping Callum on the shoulder. “I need my kip. See you lads in the morning.”

“Cuppa?” Callum says, for anything better to do, and Ben nods and looks like he’s ready to fall asleep where he stands.

They wait for the kettle in silence, and it’s not uncomfortable but it does feel like it used to, a bit. In those early days when they were still learning what it meant to be in each other’s space. 

“Job went well,” Ben says eventually, and Callum nods, not pushing. “Just a grab and dash, except the bloke’s well connected. And by well connected I mean loaded. And by loaded I mean an arsehole.” 

Callum laughs softly and grabs the milk from the fridge.

“Why are you doing this, Callum?” Ben asks, and Callum finishes making the tea, blows softly on his before he answers. 

“Should have been doing it all along,” he says, and Ben frowns. “No, don’t. It’s not…I’m still not gonna be the one out there doing B and Es, or making dodgy deals. That’s not the bloke I am. But it _is_ the bloke you are. And I knew that. I’ve _always_ known that. And it’s not just you, neither. It’s almost everyone you care about. Hell, it’s almost everyone I care about. With a brother like mine, with Mick and Linda, with _Whit_. Most of them are even really good people. 

I had the best intentions when I joined up. But, well. You know what they say about good intentions. I thought I could have it both ways, and I couldn’t, not really. And that was on me. 

‘Cause I made a choice, and it was the wrong one.”

“I didn’t wanna be the bloke that stopped you doing what you wanted,” Ben says, because he’s still stuck on that. Still thinks he’s the one breaking things. Doesn’t realise yet what Callum figured out a while back.

“I know,” Callum says. “Except I realised it doesn’t matter. I can come up with all the justifications I want, but at the end of the day it’s simple. I know you, Ben Mitchell, and I love you. And I will lie through my teeth every day of my life if it means keeping you here and safe and with me.”

“ _Cal—_ ”

“My choice,” Callum says, taking Ben’s tea out his hands and putting it next to his on the counter. “Only ‘bout the second one in my life I’ll not regret making.”

“What’s the first?” Ben asks, eyelids slipping partway closed as he stares up at Callum, breath caught on the space between them.

“Kissing you,” Callum says, and doesn’t regret it this time, either.

**~**

“Morning, sir,” the officer says, not one he recognises.

“What can I do for ya?” Callum says, putting down his bar towel and making sure the empties are stacked neatly.

“Can you tell us where you were on Tuesday night?”

Callum smiles.

“Absolutely.”

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out with me [on tumblr.](https://madroxed.tumblr.com/)


End file.
